Revenge of the Fangirls
by JojoLightningfingers
Summary: Sequel to "When Fangirls Attack". Rated because of creepiness and sexual themes. In which a doomed six are captured by fangirls.


**WHAT HAVE I DONE.**

**Warning: Crack. Everywhere.**

**Another Warning: This might creep you up the walls. No kidding.**

**Sequel to "When Fangirls Attack". Yup.**

* * *

Ever since the scarring fangirl attack a week ago, the victims, Snake aside, had taken to sleeping in one room. The brunette mercenary had informed them that he was going to be staying at a secret place in the mansion that nearly nobody knew of. Ike had decided on the old 'safety in numbers' policy and thus he, Marth, Roy, Pit, Red, and Link shared a room. The windows and the door were locked. They didn't know how much protection that would offer, but it helped them sleep easier.

Everyone had been changed from their run-in with almost-certain imprisonment. Pit and Red – at times, Marth – would sometimes wake up in a cold sweat, their dreams filled with fangirls. Pit would scream like a banshee and latch on to the person nearest him – usually Ike – which resulted in the entire room waking up and generally falling out of the bed. Red would let out a soft whimper, turn over, and try to go back to sleep. Marth, when it happened, simply sat and stared at the moon before he got too tired to stay awake.

Ike tried to pretend that he hadn't been changed, but he often found himself checking in the closets and behind doors and staying inside all day. He chalked up the latter to the blazing summer heat, but it still didn't explain the obsession with doors and closets.

Roy one day confessed his fears to Ike about being captured and tied. He also felt much more at ease if he slept fully clothed (rather than shirtless, as he had done before) and with his sword on the floor by his bed. Ike didn't really have the heart to tell him that a sword wouldn't do a thing to a fangirl – it was like they were invincible to the object of their lust.

Link had long ago come to the relization that this happened sometimes – he himself had been captured a total of three times. The others were newer to this game of cat-and-mouse. He was, thus, the least changed of the six, but he always felt a rush of terror and adrenaline when a fangirl rounded the corner and began her hunt.

They were getting ready for bed – brushing teeth, removing armor, turning out lights. Unbeknownst to them, the night was going to hold many surprises.

* * *

_Nearly two days ago..._

The mob of fangirls roiled and hissed at the foot of an altar. Two stolid teenagers stood, dressed in black, at the head of a temple. The first, she of the wavy, dirty-blonde hair and the chocolate brown eyes raised a hand.

"Silence!" she commanded silkily, gesturing forward with two fingers. The one behind her – she of the shoulder-length dark brown hair and deep brown eyes – took a single step forward.

The mob quieted, awaiting the call of their leader.

"We failed to get the six today. Clearly, I'm going to have to come myself for the next raid." She glared down at them with a reserved amount of disdain.

"Miliege," the girl behind her said, brushing her dark bangs out of her face. "Should I begin to gather supplies? Those six are incredibly wily. It wouldn't hurt to have extra rope."

"Of course, Midnight," said she, nodding curtly. "Get on it right away. Also, gather a team of fifteen before you leave. Take seven trained in stealth arts and a tracker at the very least." The leader gestured with a finger. "Go." Midnight departed.

The girl swiveled to face the mob. "This time," she said in a slightly icy voice, "there will be no screw-ups."

* * *

_Present time..._

"Miliege, Midnight has returned." One of the sentries pointed a slim finger at a trail of people and a single cart.

"Understood. Thank you, I will meet her. Get the group ready." The leader vaulted over the wall and landed soundlessly on the ground. She strode with purpose toward her friend, hailing her with a smile and a raised hand.

"Miliege," Midnight said, excitement tinging her voice. "Is the raid almost ready?"

"It is." She opened the flap of the wagon, surveying the contents. Near the back, she saw something that made her raise an eyebrow. "Chicken?"

"Ike-bait," Midnight explained with a devious grin.

"Good foresight, but we're not going to need that. We're attacking at night."

"Thank you, Miliege."

"I don't like that title."

"Very well. When do we leave, Drago?"

The leader glanced up at the sound of clomping feet. "Right about now."

* * *

Smash Mansion in the night was beautiful when seen from outside. It glistened silver in the night, lit softly from within by fires and the Smashers' lamps.

In the bushes skulked a group of nearly twenty. One of the females, tied to a leash, snuffled and growled. She was a member of one of the more obscure castes, a Rabid, as they were known in the cult. Their fangirlism warped them into insane beings, creatures of the night with catlike eyesight and an incredibly enhanced sense of smell. When given a drug, most of this crazed fantardedness died down and they were employed as trackers. They were extremely good as trackers, as they retained the ability to speak.

The Rabid turned toward the window. "They're in there," she said in a gutteral voice. "I smell feathers, leather, and steel. There's no doubt."

"Thank you." The leader turned to the seven of their number clothed in black. It was like talking to a hole in the world. "Go and get them."

The ninjas nodded. One pulled out a grappling hook and twirled it, eyeing the window. She soundlessly tossed it overhead. It clanked loudly against the window. Everyone present winced. "Down!" one of the black-cloaked fangirls hissed. All of them crouched down not a moment too soon.

The window creaked open. A sleep-heavy head poked out. Wings stretched, rustling. Pit. A few of the girls stiffened and looked away to resist the deep-seated urge to glomp. One of them, Drago noted with amusement, was a stealth-artist.

"Pit?" Link's voice. "What's wrong?"

"Not sure, Link," the angel replied. "I heard something at the window."

Ike's deeper voice cut through the elf's and the cherub's. "I heard that too."

"Maybe a bird hit it," said Roy impatiently. "Come on, let's get to sleep."

Pit left the window, leaving it wide open. The leader grinned. Finally, a stroke of luck.

Thirty minutes later (time for the soon-to-be-captured to fall asleep), the seven fangirls crept from the bushes and tossed the hook into the open sill. They pulled themselves up and spread out in the room. The head of the squad leaned out of the window and made an obscure hand gesture. Rope was tossed up. The ninja caught it and distributed it to her friends. They proceeded to the first bed.

Red snored there, looking utterly peaceful. With swiftness born from practice, the Pokemon Trainer was trussed up and ready for delivery. One of the ninjas picked the brunette up bridal style and leaped out of the window, landing noiselessly. He didn't even twitch.

This process was repeated with the other five, two of the girls carrying Ike. The last one, with Marth in her arms, biffed the landing and stumbled. The bluenette's head smacked against the ground.

The prince's eyes snapped open. "Ow... what the..." then he noticed the slightly panicked stealth-artist and tried to sit up. He then realized he was tied.

"Oh my fucking god!" he shrieked, struggling against the rope. He gasped for air, his heart beating fit to burst.

Drago's head whipped around at Marth's scream. Her eyes hardened. "That was unexpected. Sedate him."

The prince had nearly escaped his bonds with all his wriggling and had every intention of fleeing before strong arms pinned him down. Another hand was thrust into his mouth to muffle his cries. He bit down hard, eyes stinging with unshed tears. Something sharp poked into his arm and the narcotics entered his system. He chewed furiously on the hand, but he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. He gave up as the sleep took him over.

The irate Midnight pulled her hand out of Marth's mouth and studied the bite marks with a glare. Any pang of sympathy she'd felt on seeing his terror-stricken face evaporated.

Drago leaned her arm on her subordinate's shoulder. "Sorry. You can have the first go with him, if you want." She smirked. "Do anything but dismember or kill him. Otherwise, have fun."

Midnight appeared to perk up at the idea; she nodded to her superior. "That's generous of you. Knowing your preference for blue-haired bishonens, I'd have thought you'd want him first." She grinned. "Not that I mind."

"Ah, I'll go molest someone else while you have your fun," the leader of the fangirls replied amiably, punching Midnight lightly in the shoulder with a grin.

The dark-haired girl laughed and accepted a medipak for her hand as their summoner conjured a portel to the place the fangirls lived and carted the six boys through.

* * *

The first thing Marth was aware of when he woke up was the lack of heat on his chest. The second thing he noticed was the tension in his shoulders. The third thing he noticed, when he opened his eyes, was the fangirl on his body, drawing circles on his bare chest, smiling.

"Don't scream," she said. "And don't do anything stupid."

Marth was far too horrified to scream. His heart hammered in his ribcage. Her grin widened, which he took to mean that she had felt the tremors speed up. His shoulders ached unbearably, so he tried lowering his arms. The noble found himself chained to the headboard. He tried to pull himself free as discreetly as possible. The manacles rattled.

The fangirl dug her nails into Marth's flesh. He winced and glared at her. "None of that," she hissed. The insane smile didn't waver.

The prince forced his tongue to work. "What do you want from me?"

"Well, you're tied on a bed, Marthy," she said. "What do you think?"

The implications of her sentence drove the breath from the Altean's lungs. He wasn't one for profanity, but he felt that, in this situation, it was justified. "Fuck..." he whispered.

"Exactly!"

An idea began to take root in his brain. "If I do, will you set me free?" he asked with a defeated tone.

"Maaaaybe," she sang. She laid her head down on an arm, kicking her legs in the air. With a devious grin, she slipped her tongue from between her lips and traced a line on the hard muscle of his chest.

Marth bit his lip at the sensation, trying to ignore the tongue and the knee wedged uncomfortably between his legs. He worked out his plan fast, hoping to any god there was that it would work.

"Hey," he asked hazily, trying to sound aroused, "Who are you?"

"Names aren't important. However, mine is Midnight." She nipped his ear, making him shudder in repulsion.

"Then... if you aren't going to let me go until you're satisfied... you wouldn't mind if I'm on the top?"

"No, I wouldn't," she breathed. Her face containted barely hidden excitement.

"Very well. Let me up." He attempted to look seductive, but he wasn't sure if he pulled it off.

She eagerly unchained him. He got up and grabbed her shoulder, flipping her over. "You don't mind if I use these, do you?" Marth asked breathily, fingering the shackles.

"Definetly not," she whispered, crossing her wrists obligingly.

He chained the girl to the bed, then got up and kicked the door open, snatching a ring of keys off the wall.

"Hey!" Midnight hissed. "Where do you think you're going?" She tried to get up to go after him, but the shackles stopped her. A second later, the penny dropped and she howled in frustration. There was nothing more humiliating than a predator outwitted by its prey. "That wasn't fair!"

"All's fair in love and war, hon," he said dryly. "And this is definetly war." He slammed the door behind him and locked it.

* * *

The prince trekked through the twisted paths of the fangirl base, trying to locate his friends. He wanted to find Red and Pit first and save them from this nightmare. Red was a child and Pit was simply innocent. He cracked open every door he found, unlocking it if it was locked, then closing them worriedly. The clock was ticking, and still nothing. Only a matter of time before one of them was raped.

Then, a soft scream down the corridor. It was definetly male, if a bit high-pitched. The bluenette charged down the hall, kicking open the door.

Finally, a hit. Red, down to his underwear, shook in terror, tears gathered at his eyes. What the fangirl was doing was best left to your imaginations. Marth, furious, shoved the girl away from him and pinned her down awkwardly with a foot. She clawed at his ankle with her nails, to no avail.

Marth unlocked the chains and offered his hand to Red. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner," he apologized. Red only whimpered and latched onto the blue-haired boy. The prince gathered Red's clothes off the ground and left the room, locking the door from the outside before the fangirl could get up and reclaim her prize.

Outside, the Pokemon Trainer flew into his clothes and leaped on Marth's back, still wide-eyed and shaking. Marth, saying nothing, went in search of his other friends.

Pit he found without too much trouble. The angel was screaming bloody murder and the scene that awaited Marth when he forced the door was one of chaos. The cherub had snapped the chains in his adrenaline-fueled panic and was trying to get to the door. The fangirl had him by a wing and one of the broken chains and was trying to wrestle him back to the bed. Marth grabbed the back of the girl's bra (slipping it up, to his eternal scarrage and embarassment) and hauled her away from the angel, who shot out the door and tried to run. Red caught and held him, trying to calm him down.

After chaining the fangirl to the bed out of spite, the noble locked the door and continued his search. He was met with Ike outside the door, topless.

"Hey." The mercenary scratched his head.

"That's _it?_ That's _all_ you have to say?" Marth blinked at him.

"Sure isn't a picnic, that's for sure."

"How'd you get free?"

"She unchained me and I ran. Locked the door on her before she could get out." Ike shrugged.

Pit clamped on to him, unwilling to let go.

"What's up with him?"

"Best that you don't know." Red agreed hurriedly. "Come on, let's go and find the others."

* * *

After saving Link from doom, Roy took a bit of finding. Twice, they were ambushed by fangirls, and their nerves were on edge. The group peeked around a corner and swiftly pulled their heads back. A group of Rabids snuffled aruond in the hall, grunting. With thudding hearts, they tiptoed down the hall in the shadows.

Miraculously, nothing happened.

Keen elf ears twitched. Link pointed down the hall. "I hear people talking. This way." He sidled cautiously along the wall in the direction of the noise. Four minutes later, Link held up a hand. "In there," said the Hylian, pointing to a door.

Pit leaned against it, pressing his ear to the wood. "Definetly Roy in there. He's talking to someone."

Red shifted on the spot. "Quick, let's get him. Before... You know..." They all shuddered at the thought.

Ike threw his weight on the door and broke it open. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" he asked tightly. _I _really_ hope I'm not interrupting anything._

"Well well, Roy-boy," said a female voice. "Your friends have come to collect you."

"Oh, hey guys!" piped the redhead. "I was wondering when you'd show up." And there was Roy, lying on the bed, shirtless, untethered, and very much not-scarred.

The bluenette blinked, raised an eyebrow, and said the first thing that came to his mind. "Wha...?"

Roy got up off the bed and stretched. "What?"

"Exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"How did... are you still pure?" The girl glared at Ike.

"Yeah. How about all of you?"

"Pure of the body, not of the mind, at least." Marth stepped into the room and circled Roy.

The Pheraean eyed him. "Something you want?"

Marth grabbed a handful of Roy's hair and pulled.

"Aaaaagh!" Roy screamed, clutching his head and falling to his knees. "The fuck was that for, Marth!"

"Sorry, I had to make sure you were really you."

The fangirl in the corner snickered as the redhead jumped Marth and started yanking at his cherished blue tresses, eliciting pained yelps from the prince. Red and Pit were practically in hysterics, and even Ike had to admit it was amusing.

Link snapped them all back into business mode. "Who are you?" he demanded of the fangirl.

In a blink, she was behind him, her breath ghosting on his neck. "I'm Drago, the leader of the mob, that's who," she purred, nipping the tip of his tapered ear. In another second, she was back in her original position.

A footstep clomped in the doorway. Drago clicked her fingers. "Ah, there you are. Marth, I believe you've met my right-hand girl, Midnight." The girl stepped into the room with a look that could kill you stone dead, if looks could do that. She aimed the expression at Marth and his heart nearly stopped. The prince eeped and shuffled surreptitiously to hide behind Roy.

"She's not like the others, guys," Roy sighed. "She's tame."

Ike studied him with a "WTH" kind of look. "Roy, are you off your meds?"

"I'm serious."

Drago laughed. "Nothing was going to happen to you, boys, we wanted to test you. See how good you would handle capture. As it was, two of you escaped on your own and rescued the rest of them. Job well done. We'll send you back now – after all, the chase is more fun than the capture." Her brown eyes shone. "Midnight, send them home."

The other five, in unison, said the same thing.

"What?"

* * *

**Oh my god, what did I create? What am I on? Why am I staying up so late to write this stuff? Why am I asking so many questions?**

**NOTICE: Me being the leader of the fangirls was just for shits and giggles, it doesn't mean I think I'm better than you. Also, Midnight, who is my friend in real life who asked to be in this, agrees with me.**

**I hope you enjoyed this and were slightly creeped out! **


End file.
